


Untitled Sheppard/OFC bodyswap fic

by kisahawklin



Series: Unfinished and discontinued fic [19]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Bodyswap, Consent Issues, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheppard swaps bodies with an OFC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Sheppard/OFC bodyswap fic

**Author's Note:**

> I love this story! I really, really wish I had kept going - I was really enjoying the issues of consent and the difference between male and female bodies. I just got a bit scared - this is something that could've gone so wrong (and it was headed toward McShep (in male bodies only)) so I worried that I would undermine the whole story with that, and my worry just defeated me on this one.

John watches the new physicist – Amy something-or-other – lean over a console and thinks, _At least I've got a good view._

He's got scientist-accompaniment duty, something he usually worms his way out of by virtue of being the person who okays Lorne's final schedules. He figures he does enough – he spends plenty of time with McKay checking out underwater parts of the city to make up for shirking the weekly exploration sessions that Rodney pawns off on the newbies anyway.

Today, though. Today Lorne's sick – and if he's not in the infirmary when John checks in on him, John's going to put him there with something much more interesting than the flu – so John is accompanying Dr. Amy ( _Angie_? he second-guesses himself) So-And-So along the various labs littering one of the sublevels on the northwest arm.

She's polite, which John figures is because she's new enough to not have gotten caught up in the maelstrom of sarcasm that is Rodney's lab. She'll learn soon enough.

They've detoured into another lab, the same boring setup as most of the labs on this lower level, so John doesn't think twice about letting her play around a bit. The rest of the scientists (Parrish is heading up the team this week and there’s supposed to be a submarine greenhouse at the end of the arm) keep moving and John sends Donaldson and Stein ahead with them.

"Colonel?" Amy-Angie asks. "Could you please initialize this console for me?"

This part of the city has never been underwater, as far as John can tell, and there’s been three identical labs on this level, and Amy-Angie ( _Anna_? John's unhelpful mind supplies) has stopped in each one and had John initialize the console so she can spend a few minutes noting the most basic information for future spelunking by McKay.

Rodney's going to _love_ her. She doesn't push anything she shouldn't, or say, "Let me just check this one thing," or turn on anything more than the one control console. She simply takes copious notes (John will bet that her report has _footnotes_ ) and powers the consoles back down, cheerfully heading to the next lab.

"Sure thing," John replies, wishing he could remember Amy-Angie-Anna's name. He's _good_ with names, damn it, and exactly when did he start picking up McKay's bad habits? He wanders over, replaying the introduction Radek gave him a couple hours ago in his mind - a shy smile, a hesitant handshake, and... nope, no name. Damn it. He steps up next to her, breathing in the lavender scent of her bobbed brown hair, and reaches a hand for the console. It sparks when he touches it and he pulls his hand away fast, but not fast enough.

Strangely, the last thing he sees before things go black is himself and Amy-Angie-Anna standing next to each other, wearing twin surprised looks on their faces. _That's not good,_ he thinks, before the world is reduced to a pinprick of light, like an old TV set being turned off.

*

"Sheppard." McKay’s voice is clear as a bell, and he opens his eyes, turning toward the sound. McKay has his back to him, leaning over maybe-Amy. John scrunches up his face in confusion. Why is Rodney –

"Dr. Kaplan is awake!" Radek says loudly, right in his ear, and John whips his head around to stare at Radek, who is smiling down at him fondly.

"Andie?" Rodney says, and when John looks back at Rodney, he’s turned around and staring straight into John’s eyes. _Oh shit,_ he thinks, and then, _Andie?!_ and then he faints dead away.

* * *

Andie wakes up slowly, like she's underwater, swimming for the surface.

"Sheppard," she hears Dr. McKay say. "Thank god, you've been out for hours." She looks around, wondering where Colonel Sheppard is, and tries to get her bearings. They were on the northwest arm, and she was waiting for Colonel Sheppard to initialize the control panel so she could take some readings, and –

Oh, right. That sensation that she was looking out at herself and Colonel Sheppard standing side by side. Then, nothing. She hadn't even glimpsed the console, she had no idea what it might have done to her.

"Sheppard, what's wrong with you?" Dr. McKay says, and Andie glances up at him. He's looking straight at her.

"Dr. McKay?" she asks, and when the sound comes out of her mouth, it's entirely too deep, and has a weird nasal quality to it.

"Andie?" Dr. McKay says, and his eyes go huge. "Oh, no."

Andie closes her eyes, deliberately thinking about slowing her skyrocketing pulse, about getting herself under control. It seems almost easy, and she opens her eyes and sits up, taking a look down her – no, Colonel Sheppard's – body.

This simple act of sitting up feels strange, a certain thickness to her limbs that makes her feel like she's wearing a heavy coat. She glances around the infirmary and sees there's only one other occupied bed, her own auburn-dyed hair peeking out of the top of blanket.

The strangest thoughts go through her head. Is she wearing her ratty bra, the one that she really should get rid of but she likes it too much to part with just yet? Are her underwear stained? Oh, god, what if they don't get switched back and Colonel Sheppard is going to see her _underwear_? Oh no, he's going to see her naked!

She closes her eyes again, taking deep breaths. Dr. McKay will be able to fix this. She just has to keep it together enough to tell him what happened.

"Dr. McKay," she says again, and clears her throat once before continuing in the strange tenor voice. "I think Colonel Sheppard and I have... um. Exchanged consciousnesses."

Dr. McKay is staring at her, his eyes still huge, and Andie really doesn't like the look of that. "Dr. Zelenka?" she calls. "Radek, can you please help me here?"

Dr. Zelenka looks up from his post at her body's side, and frowns exaggeratedly. "Colonel? Are you okay?"

"I'm not Colonel Sheppard," Andie repeats, and Dr. Keller comes up on them just as she says it. "I'm Dr. Kaplan. I just happen to be inhabiting Colonel Sheppard's body."

Rodney's eyes get even bigger, and he says, "Is Sheppard in there too?"

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears her own voice (sounding irritatingly like it does on answering machines and not at all like it does in her head) say, "No, Rodney, Sheppard's in _here_."

*

After an exhausting three hours of medical testing in between bouts of Ancient equipment theorizing, Andie has to pee, but the idea of having to handle Colonel Sheppard's penis makes her slightly ill. She knows she can probably hold it another half an hour, but after that, she's going to be in serious danger of pissing down her leg.

Colonel Sheppard's leg is shaking, and she doesn't know if it's him or her body; if it's her body, it means he has to pee too. If it's him, she doesn't know. Maybe he's just the nervous type.

Rodney is in the lab they were exploring, talking a mile a minute over the radio about blackened crystals and corrosion, secondary control systems and memory storage devices. Radek is asking about power sources and water levels and mold, and Andie wants to shake him. Mold? What kind of question is that? What could that possibly have to do with their current situation?

"Can you stop scowling like that?" her own voice asks, and she looks at her body, suddenly not nearly as sturdy as she always thought, not when compared to the musculature Colonel Sheppard's body has. She looks pissed off, and it's weird to know that her face scrunches up really unattractively. "You're scaring the children."

Dr. Keller raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm not afraid of your scowly face, Colonel, and it's even less menacing coming from Dr. Kaplan."

That makes her scowl more, and Dr. Keller turns the sarcasm on her. "Maybe you need to lie down, Dr. Kaplan? You look a little constipated." 

She hears Colonel Sheppard laugh, but it's not her usual laugh, not even close – it's this braying nightmare of snuffles and snorts and hee-haws that's just _wrong_.

"Oh my god, _shut up_ ," she says before whirling on Dr. Keller. "Can I go? I really can't stand being stuck in here with him right now."

The colonel shuts up, but he's smirking at her, and that is really a disconcerting expression to see on her face. "Why aren't you more upset about this?" she asks, pissed off when Colonel Sheppard's voice makes it sound smoothed out and almost amused. His larynx must have a default setting of 'laid-back.' It's as frustrating as his heavy limbs and his stupid hair and his _penis_. She wants to get back to her room so she can go take a piss without everyone watching, without Colonel Sheppard grinning at her annoyingly through her own face.

Surprisingly, Sheppard agrees with her. "Yeah, doc, we don't need to be here, do we?"

"Uh," Dr. Keller says. She looks confused, and Andie can't figure out why until she realizes that Colonel Sheppard is doing his charmy-flirty thing _with her body_.

" _Stop that_!" Andie says. "Seriously, turn off the damn charm and make a reasonable argument here. For example: there are no more tests to run, no more information we can give to Drs. McKay and Zelenka, and we would both like to be able to be alone to process this for a little while. Is that such an unreasonable request?"

Dr. Keller looks like she's about to give in, and Andie wonders if it's because of her rational explanation or because Colonel Sheppard's body seems to ooze charm, no matter how stiff she stands or forbidding she makes her face.

"Excuse me," McKay says over the radio, "but when Cadman and I were stuck in a similar situation, our first stop was the psychiatrist."

 _Bastard_ , Andie thinks. _I am going to spike his coffee with ipecac._

"Rodney," Sheppard whines, and Keller whips her head around to stare at him. Andie heard it too – he sounded like an exasperated girlfriend. Andie tucks that away for future blackmail. "What?" he asks, looking back and forth between them.

"Nothing," Dr. Keller says. "You could probably use some time. I'll set something up with Dr. Tsai in say, three hours. Okay?" She looks back and forth between them. Andie shrugs, and can't help but notice how much larger the motion is with her broader shoulders.

"Sure, doc," Sheppard says, and stands up, nearly falling over. Andie laughs meanly, though she really shouldn't - she nearly fell over when she stood up half an hour ago, and she purposely avoided sitting down again for exactly that reason.

*

As soon as she gets to her room, Andie rushes in the bathroom, undoing her pants and letting them and the boxers (why? what is the _point_ of boxer shorts?) drop to the ground. The strangeness of seeing Colonel Sheppard's tan skin and black hair and _penis_ makes her hesitate, but she turns around and sits down on the toilet anyway.

It's disturbing, feeling the urine travel down the penis, it feels like it's outside her body, almost, like she's wetting her pants. She shudders.

She looks longingly at the bathtub. That's what she'll do, take a nice long soak with bubbles, so she doesn't have to look at the strange body she's in. As she shakes Sheppard's dick (she thinks she remembers a joke, so she figures it's at least partly true that men did that after they take a piss), she decides to wipe the tip with toilet paper. It just seems more sanitary.

She starts running the water for her bath before she realizes that she doesn't have any clean clothes. She sniffs Colonel Sheppard's pits and they don't smell too bad, but she really hates not putting on clean clothes after a bath. Come to think of it, Colonel Sheppard won't have a change of clothes for her body either, so she packs up a couple of sets of science uniforms, jeans and a t-shirt, underwear and bras into a duffel bag and heads down the hallway to the colonel's quarters.

*

"Colonel Sheppard," Andie says as she bustles into his room, stopping as her eyes light on the bed where her own body lays with a hand down its pants and an incredibly guilty expression. "What are you doing?" she asks, the colonel's voice dropping into a baritone register and vibrating in her chest.

"Nothing," comes the reply, her voice sounding off by that fraction, like it always does when it isn't coming from inside her. The drawl is unfamiliar too, but she's sure that's Sheppard, stalling for time.

"You're feeling me up?" she pushes, and the menace in her voice is so much more _satisfying_ coming out in a man's deeper register, something rough and sinister she can't achieve with her normal frustratingly high-pitched voice.

"No, I-"

Andie has a fleeting desire to run to a mirror, to look at the pissed-off expression that makes Sheppard snap her mouth shut and finally – _finally_ – remove his hand from her pants. His facial expression changes to one of sulky anger, and she now understands exactly what her mother always saw when she was 'being difficult' even though she never said a word.

"That is _my_ body you're accosting. What gives you the right?" She wants to punch something – someone – and the surge of violence is almost frightening in its intensity. Sheppard continues to look guilty, and whispers a mumbled apology.

"You can..." Sheppard waves his hand at her crotch area, and the look of earnestness and confusion on her own face nearly makes her laugh. Did Sheppard really use that look in his own body? "If you want to."

"No thank you," Andie says primly, though of course the idea imprints on her mind and she can't get it out. And _fuck_ , this stupid male body seems to think it's a brilliant idea, and she can feel his dick starting to get hard. He can see it too, and he smirks at her.

"I hate this body," Andie yells, dropping the duffel bag and waving her hand frantically at Sheppard's door, desperately trying to get out so she can get back to her room and drown herself in her bathtub.

"Hey," Sheppard says behind her. The door slides open and she takes off running for her own quarters, ignoring the way the shift of the BDUs over her erection makes things worse.

* * *

John lets his head fall back onto the pillow and debates sticking his hand down his pants again. He can't believe she's not even interested in playing around with her new body. How cool is this, finally knowing _exactly_ what it feels like when you do something like rub a finger over a woman's clit? He likes his dick, all things considered, and her aversion to it bothers him.

The mood's completely ruined, so he gets up to see what Dr. Kaplan brought him. The duffel is filled with uniforms and underwear and one lonely pair of jeans. He appreciates the gesture, but his first stop out of the infirmary was to get BDUs in her size. At least he has a couple of pairs of underwear, though he'll never understand tight-fitting underwear. He can feel the elastic biting into his hips.

Belatedly, it occurs to him that she shouldn't be wearing _his_ uniform, so he empties her clothes into a drawer and fills it up with jeans and shirts and boxers, and debates whether or not he should give her his shaving kit. He decides that she can grow a beard, and he'll deal with it when they get switched back. After all, it's not like he's going to shave her legs.

He debates what he's going to say to her when he shows up at her door – a quick check with Banks over the radio gives him the location of her quarters – but he doesn't think 'sorry' is going to cut it. He had assumed she'd want a crack at his body as much as he wanted a chance to feel hers. 

He can't get over the buoyancy of this body. It feels like if he could just catch an updraft, he could fly. He sighs and slings the duffel over his shoulder. He hates apologizing for things when he's not even sure what he did wrong.

*

He knocks on Dr. Kaplan's door, resisting the urge to go in without announcing himself. 

_"Go away!"_ she shouts at the door, and he grins at the petulance in his voice. He has a hard time making that work, except with Rodney. 

"Come on," John says, doing his best to sound comforting. It doesn't sound any more natural in a woman's voice than it does in his own. Maybe he just doesn't know how to do it.

 _"I said,_ go away! _"_

John swipes his hand over the door crystals, frustrated when nothing happens. He does it again, waving a little frantically before he realizes he didn't have his super-gene to get the technology to do what he wants. _Traitor_ , he thinks meanly at Atlantis. He drops the duffel and takes the cover off the crystals. There's more than one way to skin a cat.

When the door slides open, Dr. Kaplan's nowhere in sight. He takes a step in, glancing around nervously as the door slides shut behind him and noticing a pile of black clothes that looks suspiciously like his uniform. As he takes another two steps into the room, he can see the door to the bathroom open a crack, and himself – no, Dr. Kaplan – standing in front of the mirror, naked, looking extremely unhappy. 

"It's not that bad," John says, making her jump in surprise. It's pretty funny to see her expressions on his face, and the blush that creeps up his neckline funnier still. "What?" he asks just to goad her. "It's not like I haven't seen it before. I could give you some hints, you know."

Her look of embarrassment turns to dismay, and John puts his hands up defensively. "No pressure. I'm just saying that's my body – I know it pretty well."

Looking at himself is a strange sort of disconnect. He knows what he looks like, thanks to the flat sort of three dimensional image he sees in mirrors, but it's different looking at the actual curve of his ass, the depression his spine makes between the bunches of muscle of his lower back. 

He approaches slowly, and the ease of moving smoothly in this body is something he never expected. He's at the bathroom door before Dr. Kaplan looks up at him again, her eyebrows twitching, and her mouth twisting, making him look like he's slightly stupid. 

"C'mon, doc, it's not that bad." He's finally found the soothing pitch to her voice – it's higher, chirpier – but it works, and he watches her smooth his face back out into its natural blankness. He slips into the bathroom, pressing in with her body, curving it around his own. She's tall, not as tall as him, but tall enough that he can see her eyes in the mirror above his shoulder, and when he reaches around her to pat her hip, it's not totally uncomfortable. "Let me help you out."

He watches her eyes flutter closed, and while not something he can recall ever doing, it looks kind of sexy. He reaches a hand around, putting it firmly on her dick, reveling in the surprisingly sensuous feel of it in his hand; there are no desensitized, calloused spots on this hand, no cracked skin. Only soft, smooth, _small_. She's not petite, but her hands are tiny compared to his, at least in proportion to how much of himself he can usually hold. Dr. Kaplan leans back a little, and John shifts to rest against the wall, encouraging her to lean back against him. 

He's sorry he did when he remembers how much he weighs and suddenly finds it a little difficult to breathe. He squirms a little, managing to work his thinner frame out from under hers a bit, giving his stroking arm a little room – the muscles in his forearm are feeling a little uncomfortable already. Dr. Kaplan's shaking almost violently, and he doesn't remember that, doesn't recall ever having that reaction to sex, or an orgasm, or – 

Dr. Kaplan sighs, and suddenly she's coming all over his hand. He ducks his head down before grinning triumphantly. Maybe now she'll let him fool around with her body.

"I can smell you," she says, and it sounds like the sexiest thing he's ever heard. He almost wishes he could take notes – it's surprisingly educational seeing his body from the outside. 

He can smell himself too, come to think of it, just barely over the tang of semen. It's subtle, at least until she turns around suddenly and pulls his pants down. She kneels, so quickly he hopes he doesn't get his body back until the knee-aches are gone, and puts her nose right in his crotch, breathing deep of the pink polka dotted panties. 

"I suppose I owe you," she says, his voice lower than he can ever remember. "It'll be easier if we move into the other room."

She pushes his pants down and John steps out of them. He pulls her shirt off over his head as well, looking down at the well-worn bra. Considering she had to have signed on for at least a year, he would have thought she would have brought underwear that would make it that long.

"Come on," she says, leading the way out of the bathroom. She has a rocking chair – something she had to have brought with her, as John's never seen one in Atlantis before now except the hand carved one Teyla used to rock Torren to sleep when he was fussy. 

She sits down on the chair and beckons him over. The look on his face is almost wolfish, it's so eager, and he's suddenly a little creeped out about this whole situation. Still, she knows her body as well as he knows his, so getting a lesson in how to get a woman off from a woman while wearing her body… there's no way he's going to pass that up.

She turns him around, pulls off the polka dot panties, and sets him on her lap. That's both better and worse; he can't see his own hungry expression, but now he feels even more creeped out, like he's sitting on a parent's lap, or Santa's, and the creepiness factor just keeps getting worse and worse. 

When her hand comes around and dips between his legs, first slipping gently over his clit and then pressing with more urgency, he grips the arms of the rocking chair tight enough to make his hands hurt. She slips a finger inside of him and he starts – that is the weirdest feeling ever, and not quite pleasant. Not unpleasant, either, but… weird. It makes her fingers slick, though, and now they slide over his clit at the same time they're providing pressure, and he can't do anything but tilt his hips back and forth and make low moaning noises. It's pleasure, yes, but not clearly goal-directed the way he's used to orgasms being. It's just rolling waves of fucking hotness with no end in sight. He keeps canting his hips and squirming on her fingers, trying to get it to feel more familiar.

At one point he realizes she's hard again; he would say that's got to be impossible, but he honestly can't tell how long she's been rubbing him off. It could easily have been long enough for his body to get a second hard-on. 

Like a bell ringing in dead silence, he gets that she's hard, and he's hornier than he's ever been in his whole life, and that the next logical step is for her to fuck him. The thought freaks him right out, and he claws his way out of her grip and off her lap. He's panting, his mouth dry.

"Mmm, hot," she says, and it sounds more like a rumble in her chest than any actual words.

He feels it like a lightning bolt, a quick contraction of the muscles _down there_ , and he really, really wants to come in this body. He just doesn't want to do it with anything inside of him.

"Okay, I get the idea," he says, putting a hand up to keep her sitting in the chair. "I think I can take it from here."

She smiles and gestures to her bunk. "Feel free. I'd like to watch, if you don't mind."

He does mind, but he doesn't see how he can deny her. Another lightning bolt and he suddenly realizes that she's got at least sixty pounds on him, probably more, and if she knows how to handle herself even a little bit, she could force herself on him. The thought simultaneously scares the shit out of him and gives him another zinging contraction of the muscles in his nether regions. 

She probably won't. It would hurt both of their bodies, and he's pretty sure neither one of them want that, and besides, it's not like she can't go out as him and get laid by any number of…

 _Oh shit_.

The complications of the whole situation suddenly become much clearer. It tamps down on his enjoyment and as if it never happened at all, he's no longer horny. He looks down at himself and over at her, and even though he hasn't said anything, it's like she can tell.

"What was that?" she asks, sounding way more nasal than he normally does.

"I just…" He sighs. "There's more to this than I thought."

She smiles at him; it looks utterly out of place on his face. Is that what a sincere smile looks like? It's kind of ugly. He grimaces.

"Stop making faces. They look really dumb on my face," she says.

"Same goes for you," he answers, and she pulls her head back, eyes widening in shock. 

"I was only trying to be sympathetic," she says, now looking pissed off. "Some of us live our whole lives with the realization of what being a woman in this society means."

He sighs. It sounds pathetic. Suddenly he really hates this whole situation. "I think it's time for me to start bugging McKay until he fixes this," he says, reaching down for his panties. 

"Hey, wait," she says, putting a hand on his arm. "To tell you the truth, I haven't had sex in a while, and this is actually interesting – as long as both our minds and bodies are here for the consenting."

The clinical sound of the statement makes her sound like one of the anthropologists. "Well," he says, hating to admit it, "I've been a little… celibate… for a while now."

"All right, then," she says, and her grin of pure joy makes him smile back at her. "I was teasing you – there are a couple of tricks you need to actually get to an orgasm. Or at least, that's the way it's always worked for me. Lie down."

* * *

Andie can't help stretching out next to John on the bed. She's a good five inches taller than him, and she's never been with a woman who's that much smaller than her. It makes her feel protective. 

He's still wet, so she kisses him to distract him and dips her fingers into his vagina. He doesn't like it; she's willing to guess he's never been penetrated before. It makes her want to mess around with her dildo while she's in the colonel's body. 

He's a lousy kisser, which is a bit disappointing but not totally unexpected. He seems too uptight to actually enjoy kissing. She concentrates on what her hand is doing and it doesn't take much to get him rolling his hips under her fingers again, making delightful little moaning sounds. 

She gratefully stops kissing him to put her mouth on his nipple. He bucks under her and when she looks up at him, he's looking down at her with wide eyes. She flicks her tongue over his nipple again and he throws his head back. "Not a breast man, obviously," she mutters. The first thing she did when she started masturbating back in junior high was to play with her nipples. It was normally one of the first things men went for. He hadn't even thought about putting his hands on her breasts; it's the strangest thing about this whole situation so far.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I made Sheppard a bad kisser, and quite possibly a bad lover. I've done it before, I don't know why. I guess because I tend to think of guys who get it too easy never really have to work to figure out a woman's body; it's an unfair stereotype but one that's been true in my (admittedly limited) experience. And the last thing in the file, a note for the rest of it: Aqua Velva doesn't smell right on his skin/birth control pills/things taste funny - texture bothers him (peas/tomatoes)


End file.
